


Sherbet Lemons and Falling Walnuts

by emansil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 22:26:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emansil/pseuds/emansil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’d known each other such a short time, two months, not even that. It felt as if he’d known Gellert for most of his life. He’d never known someone that he felt so at ease with, yet who at the same time challenged and stimulated his intellect as Grindelwald did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherbet Lemons and Falling Walnuts

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 rarepairs fest. Betaed by incomparable wwmrsweasleydo. Assistance with phrasing of a Germanic nature assistance by Vaysh11. This is the story I tried my hardest not to write, but when all was said and done, I simply could not resist it. All in all, I think it turned out rather well. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Sherbet Lemons and Falling Walnuts

The soft sound of laughter next to him startled Albus out of his revery. He turned toward the distraction.

The late afternoon sun shone brightly on the golden haired youth that walked beside him. The blond curls shone like fields of wheat ready for threshing.

Gellert (and how shocking it felt to be able to call him that instead of the more acceptable Mr, or perhaps Herr Grindelwald, even the less formal, plain Grindelwald. Albus was sure his mother would have been scandalized had she still been alive), was still talking, gesturing as he was prone to do whenever he spoke, his voice low and modulating as he searched for the English translation of what he was trying to convey.

Distracted by the golden curls, the bright glow of intellectual passion in the hazel eyes and the timbre of the voice, Albus lost track of the argument Gellert was making. He could only stand and stare and hope that his own supposed powers of intellect would catch up.

Gellert was lovely, truly lovely. How had he not realised that before? It had been Gellert’s intellect that had captured Albus’s attention. Even so, he should have observed how attractive he was. 

Gellert stopped talking and stared at Albus. He smiled, the dimple on his left side deepened as he did. “What?” he asked. “Have I said something that offends you? Do you disagree with me?”

As Albus was still waiting for his brain to catch up with what Gellert had been saying he had no response. All he could think of was how much he wanted to touch him. To be able to stroke the tip of his finger along the pale, and barely there, stubble that covered a cheek that glowed with the healthy tan of one who enjoyed time outdoors, to be able to reach out and run his hand through the soft curls that framed Gellert’s face. 

Gellert was often too careless with the sun on his skin, the straw boater he preferred being carried in his hand more than on his head most days. He had simply shrugged Albus’s criticism away, saying the sun here was too charming not to enjoy. The expression had delighted Albus to no end. He also tended to leave too many of his robe’s top buttons undone than was acceptable to the other residents of Godric’s Hollow. 

“Mr. Dumbledore, Albus”, (and didn’t that give Albus even more of a thrill than being able to call Gellert by his first name? No one other than his family ever used his first name. Not even his oldest friend Elphias Doge who had known him for seven years [; for their having known each other for seven years they still used surnames only.]) “I don’t believe you’ve heard a word I’ve said in the past ten minutes,” Gellert continued. “Come let’s take a seat, perhaps the afternoon sun has become too much for you. I know you much prefer the darkened interiors of libraries and museums and studies.”

The two of them walked through the open meadow, alive with butterflies and honeybees along with other insects, into the wooded area. They quickly found the path that had been there for generations. Rowan, elm, beech and walnut trees grew over their heads providing both sunlight and shade. The upper branches waving in the air by a gentle breeze, sometimes the wind would pick up and the branches would crackle with the force. Leaves, twigs and other things fell on them when it did. The air smelled of an approaching afternoon storm. 

A fallen tree trunk lay to the right of the path. Without discussion they both turned and prepared to sit. It was their favourite place to spend an afternoon, or morning when Albus could find the time. Before Gellert sat, he reached into the pocket of his robe and extracted a small square inch of cotton and his wand. A quick flick had the small square transformed into a sack about six inches long and four wide. “Sweets?” He offered as he held out the bag to Albus. 

He had never known anyone who had such a fondness for sweets as Gellert. Albus’s mother had seldom allowed them in the home and Albus himself had always been too busy with his studies to attend the Hogsmeade weekend when others stacked up on the sweeties. He reached inside and pulled out a small handful. The usual suspects were there, Turkish delights, licorice allsorts, and licorice whips along with bulls-eyes. There was something different as well. “What are these with the pale yellow coating? They look like tiny lemons sprinkled with sugar.” 

“They’re supposed to. They are called “sherbet lemons”.”

“Where did you get them?”

“Aunt Bathilda had to go to London, Diagon Alley, this morning to pick up some ink and quills from Scribbulus. I knew you wouldn’t be free until after lunch, so I joined her. There’s a new sweet Shoppe that just opened. I can’t recall the name. They said this was the latest confection they’d received. It apparently is the new favourite of London, Wizardry and Muggle alike.” 

Gellert popped one of the brightly coloured sweets into his mouth. His eyes and face lit up with a brilliant smile. The taste must be acceptable. Then he puckered in the most delightful way, his eyes screwed shut and his head shook the smallest amount, just as if he’d been forced to drink boiled lemonade for his constitution. Albus laughed out loud at the face. But the puckered face didn’t last long. Soon Gellert was smacking his lips in pure pleasure and reaching into the bag for another. “Those are delightful. You should try one, Albus.”

Feeling himself blush at how Gellert’s facial expressions had affected his comfort level, Albus took one of the sweets from his hand and popped into his mouth. Seconds later Gellert was bending over with his own laughter. “You look so funny, so adorable funny, with your face all screwed up like that. The only thing that distracts from it is it makes you squinch your eyes all up and I can’t see their lovely violet blue colour or the way they twinkle. Especially how they twinkle when you look at me.” The two of them stared into each other’s eyes for several seconds; each waiting to see if the other would take any other action. Neither of them did, and the moment passed. They each enjoyed another of the sherbet lemons with the same results as before. Albus doubted he’d ever be able to eat another sherbet lemon as long as he lived without thinking of this halcyon afternoon in mid-August and the golden youth beside him. It was a moment that would be etched on his memory forever.

“Ouch,” Albus cried out, as first one then a second of the licorice whips snapped their little but painfully sharp whips into the tender part of his thumb. The sherbet lemons had made him forgetful of this potential irritant. 

“You’ve got to be faster than that,” Gellert said as he took Albus’s hand and pressed the tip of his wand against the offended area and healed it, but he didn’t let go. Instead he placed his lips against it as well, saying, “My Oma, always said that a kiss was the best medicine of them all. She said it could cure anything.” He released Albus’s hand and Albus regretfully pulled it back to his side. “There, all better now. My Oma does not lie.” 

The day had been warm and dry so the ground was as well. The each took the opposite side of the trunk and slid down onto the soft leaves and underbrush resting the back of their heads against it. It was their preferred positions for long afternoon discussions and debates. 

“Shall I continue, or should I start all over?” Gellert inquired. “You’ve seemed to have lost the thread of the discussion.”

“No, no need to start over. I admit to being distracted momentarily, but I think I’ve got the gist of it. After all it is a discussion we’ve had before.”

A small insect fluttered around his face, tickling his nose. Albus reached up to swat it away. As he did his thumb brushed against the side whiskers he was growing. Mutton chops he believed they were called. It was Albus’s first attempt at growing any type of facial hair, usually preferring the clean shaven look. Gellert had a week or so ago expressed a fondness for such on others. He’d also shared the opinion that he thought Albus would look quite dashing with them. Albus had snorted at the time knowing full well that he seldom looked dashing – no matter what he did. But still, he was giving it a try. 

“While we agree on the general principle, I think our argument is over the details of how such a thing should be conceived. As the superior being, and truly I doubt there is any disagreement to that, wizards truly are superior in every way to Muggles. Although the ways they’ve found to get around the lack of magic is quite brilliant in its own way. We should help to guide them, to show them that we can lead them to a better life. We have much to offer them,” Albus said. 

“Agreed. And why we’ve spent so many years hiding from them, I can’t imagine.”

“Well, they were scared and like all living things when backed into a corner or when frightened they fought longer and harder. They became very dangerous to our continued existence. That’s why we have to be careful. Your ways are too pushy. Muggles don’t like being forced or manipulated anymore than we do.” Next to him Gellert made a sudden jerking movement and let out a small curse in his native tongue.

Albus turned to see if there were to be more disruptions, before he continued. “It’s our duty and responsibility to guide them, to show them that we can better resolve the world’s problems. Just think what we could do to better their lives; the wonders we could show them.”

“But Albus, you, yourself have pointed out, as have others, that Muggles may prefer to remain backwards and ignorant as long as they remain free. Within reason, of course. The aristocracy of both our countries would balk at being told that others were going to lead them, no matter how gently we tried to persuade them it was all for the greater good. If this is to be the future of Wizard and Muggle relations, it may have to be done with more force than you wish. This is where we most differ.” 

“Bother these things.” Gellert mumbled as he again shifted his position.

“It’s that thinking that got you expelled from Durmstrang, if you recall. Bother what things?” 

“Yes, and if you’ll recall, without that we’d have never met. These walnuts, the walnut tree keeps dropping its nuts on me. They are large and quite painful when they hit. It’s almost as if there’s a very angry squirrel above my head. Maybe it’s a Muggle lover, doesn’t approve of what we’re discussing.” Gellert laughed and then cursed again. That time Albus heard the descent of the nut through the branches as it fell to the ground. 

“I doubt squirrels have any preference for either of us. As long as we leave them alone to gather their nuts, they won’t bother us.”

“I would have thought it too early yet in the season for them to be falling.”

“It’s been quite a warm and dry summer and the winter was cooler than usual. I understand that makes for an earlier harvest. Besides, it is the middle of August, it’s not that early. Do you want to change sides or perhaps leave?” Albus asked his friend. 

They’d known each other such a short time, two months, not even that. It felt as if he’d known Gellert for most of his life. He’d never known someone that he felt so at ease with, yet who at the same time challenged and stimulated his intellect as Grindenwald did. Being the wisest of school boys had at times been a very lonely position. Albus had friends, sure; he was a friendly and agreeable sort of young man, but he’d never had a companion like Gellert. 

“I can just put up a shield charm. I was hoping not to, as it diminishes the warmth of the sun.”

“It is quite pleasant, coming through the leaves and branches like that.” Albus opened his eyes and looked up and into the canopy above them. The sun was much further toward the west than he’d thought it should be. He sighed. “It’s getting late. I should get home. Ariana and Aberforth will want their dinner.”

“After all this time, you still don’t trust Aberforth to watch over her.”

Albus remained silent. They had had this discussion before. Gellert didn’t understand. As the oldest, Albus was responsible for the others. Aberforth especially was in danger of making wrong choices. Leaving him to watch over Ariana was not possible. 

“And forget about him, what about the house-elves? Surely, they’ve been taking care of the family Dumbledore long enough to know what to do in the absence of the head of house.” 

Gellert shot up to a standing position covering his head with his arms, startling Albus as he did. A gust of wind had knocked several walnuts loose and they rained down on him. “Verflixt und zugenäht,” Gellert cursed, momentarily returning to his native tongue with frustration, before quickly amending it to “Drat and blast this.” 

Gellert rubbed the top of his head with his slender finger. His nails were trimmed short and buffed to a smooth finish. He tended to bite them when contemplating an idea. Keeping them trimmed and manicured was the thing that kept him from biting them to the point of bleeding, he’d once told Albus. 

A loud crack of thunder over their heads and the first spattering of rain drops hastened their readiness to depart. “Are we going to have to try and walk all the way home in this downpour, or are you going to be brave and side-along me? I know you think I should be older, but I trust you not to cause me harm.”

Albus thought, but only for a short time. At the rate the rain was starting to fall they’d be drenched in no time. “Keep a clear picture in your mind of the front garden of my house. Don’t think of anything else. I’ll get you home safely.” 

“I know you will. There is no question of your success.” 

Albus reached out and pulled Gellert to him, savouring the _English Fern_ scent Gellert enjoyed splashing on himself. Not quite old enough to need to shave regularly he still enjoyed wearing some sort of scent. The sandalwood, oak moss and geranium notes matching his natural scent perfectly. 

Seconds later they landed in the front garden of the Dumbledore’s home as planned. Gellert looked a little worse for wear, his complexion leaning more towards green than was healthy. “Are you okay? Perhaps a small glass of brandy would help to settle you.” 

Gellert could only nod, looking as if he feared he’d be sick if he attempted to speak. They hurried into the parlour. Immediately they began to cast drying and warming spells on each other laughing and shivering with cold as they did.

“Do we have plans for tomorrow?” Gellert asked as he shook his curls into some semblance of order, just as Albus hit them with the drying spell.

“I thought perhaps a picnic along the River Mole. We could go punting as well. You’ve said you wanted to try it. As long as the storm has passed it should be fine. Do you still want to? If not that, there’s a new display at the British Museum. We could either have lunch before or a supper after, if you prefer. A new ichthyosaur has been found, supposedly with even greater detail than the ones found by Mary Anning. Or if you’d prefer I could side along us to Lyme Regis where she found all of her fossils and we could look for our own. Now that I’ve done it once, I feel quite confident I can do it again. If the weather is warm enough we could even remove our shoes and socks and walk barefoot along the edge of the water. Do you think your aunt would agree to keep an eye on Ariana if we give her enough notice?”

Albus stopped and took a breath, suddenly embarrassed that he’d just been rattling on and on, like the trains that rattled across the English countryside. At least they seemed to have a specific destination in mind. He felt the youth next to him tremble. “Why Gellert you’re still shivering. Are you damp? Come in and sit by the fire while I get that brandy for you. It’ll help to warm you.”

“I’m not shivering from cold. I’m shivering with anticipation and indecisiveness. Such delightful ideas you’ve got for tomorrow. They all sound of a much enjoyment to me. I could not possibly decide.” But still he accepted the glass Albus placed in his hand. He took a small sip and then grimaced at the taste. “Mr Dumbledore, Albus I’m so glad you were here, in Godric’s Hollow. I can’t imagine how horrid these weeks with my aunt might have been if you had not. I appreciate her giving me a place to stay, but…” He took another drink, this one larger than the one before. Sputtering and then coughing as he swallowed, blinking away tears. 

Likely emboldened by the effects of the alcohol, Gellert grinned at Albus. “I like you, Albus. I like you a lot.” Albus unexpectedly found the front of his robes grabbed and he was tugged forward. Gellert placed a chaste -- yet with promise-- kiss on his lips.

A gasp and a giggle from behind told Albus his sister had seen. He blushed. Mr Grindelwald, as he was still referred to while in the company of others, for his part just grinned at him and walked out, still carrying the small glass of brandy in his hand. “And Mr. Dumbledore whatever the plans for tomorrow, can you perhaps bring along your reading spectacles? You never know when you might need to read something. And you look very intelligent when you wear them. I like people with the appearance of intelligence.” The door closed behind him.

Albus almost knocked his sister over as he ran up the stairs trying to remember where he’d last left his spectacles.

End.


End file.
